Ben & Nat: Love at Home Alone Pt. 02

"Ben..."

"Yes, love?" He said, and they were eye to eye.

She searched his face, naked and vulnerable, and he smiled to let her know it was all okay. "If I said no to this, would you be mad?"

He frowned but he immediately shook his head. Please no reality right now, he thought.

But she came to a decision then, and he relaxed. "I wouldn't do that. I couldn't, this is too perfect." She kissed him wet, deep, and his own shirt was up over his head in a flash.

He'd been in the truck when his father died and he had a jagged scar across his collarbone to remind him of it. He didn't remember the accident but he remembered the pain.

She ran her fingertips along his collarbones, watching his reaction and when he smiled warmly, she kissed the scar. It wasn't far from his heart and despite his arousal, he felt the warm, wet intrusion of tears that had weren't allowed here, no sir, GTFO. He closed his eyes, willing them away, and lay one powerful hand on the back of her head, petting it lovingly, gratefully.

His phone vibrated behind him and they both ignored it. Fuck off, he thought, and she didn't even seem to register it. So much for the better.

She sat back upright, still admiring his chest. He wasn't cut, never had been, but his chest was very deep. His shoulders were nearly the width of a door frame and he was covered in fine reddish blonde hair that was almost invisible if you weren't looking for it. She most definitely was.

"Have I ever mentioned," she started, then stopped, looking up at him shyly. Something in his gaze gave her courage, he supposed. "I guess I wouldn't have. You're just about the most attractive guy I've ever met." She blushed and he threw his head back and laughed at the ceiling. "What?" She slapped his chest.

He laughed until those tears finally did pop out (just to spite him) and he wiped them away. "I just wasn't expecting that," he said, trying to make sure she knew he wasn't laughing at her. "I don't see it, but thank you." He kissed her nose and he felt the bottom of her fist crack him on top of the head good and hard. "Hey!"

She stood up then, hands on hips, breasts swaying slightly, enticingly. She glared at him. "You see this?" She turned so he could see that she had a little bit of love handle on each hip, and a curve under her belly button that was barely noticeable when she was dressed.

"I see it," he said, taking hold of those hips and pulling her back onto his lap. She came willingly enough, but she was tense and too withdrawn for his liking. "And I adore it, along with every other bit of you. It's all gorgeous. Look, if I have to deal with being told I'm attractive, so do you."

She sighed heavily, lacing their fingers and holding his hands against her lips. She was thinking. She was smart and kind so he waited. He knew her well enough that that was all he could do. It was torture, but at least his erection had subsided. He'd always been extraordinarily patient anyway, so it wasn't difficult. Well, not THAT difficult anyway.

He slowly pulled her hands back to his lips, holding up one fingertip at a time and kissing it while he waited. She watched him, smiling that big, goofy smile of hers, and he knew everything was going to be all right. The bond they had wasn't going anywhere. It was forged over a thousand movie snuggles and shoulder-cryings and late night whispered secrets. It was older than many marriages lasted. He took comfort in that, and knew it wasn't just wishful thinking. He kissed the last of her fingers and realized his eyes had closed. Hers were waiting for him.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

She nodded twice. No regrets, no doubt to be found. Good. Fuck yeah. He lowered his hands, which almost totally covered her legs from the hem of the shorts to her knees. He squeezed them and they tightened, and he felt his own tightness returning. Damn, she was soft.

He looked down and saw that she was right where he'd always dreamed she'd be, and felt her forearms resting on either side of his neck, letting him look. She kissed his forehead and ran her fingertips down his chest again, twining through the hair she found there. He squeezed her thighs a little harder and she moaned through closed lips.

He looked up and saw those lips. How many thousands of times had he wanted to kiss them? Too soft to be real, they met his without another moment wasted. His fingers made their way under the hem of her shorts as if on autopilot. Yep, softer and softer it got.

She suckled his bottom lip and clenched and unclenched her thighs. She must feel his hardness beneath her, he thought... how could she not? He wasn't enormously long. He had enough that he wasn't insecure about it, as so many guys were. What he was, though, was thick. And yes, she was rolling her hips against it, grinding on it, and the kissing went from making out to making love with their tongues.

She pulled back, chest heaving, and he saw that his hands had navigated up to her breasts, where they remained. Good job, hands! He rolled his thumbs across her nipples, pressing them lightly inward. She quivered and her eyes popped open. They were lit up with fire, if fire could be green, and she dimpled in the naughtiest way.

"Watch it," she said sharply. "Those are super... sensit - Ahh!" He forgot his own strength sometimes and of course THIS was one of those times. He'd pinched them and hadn't realized how hard it was. But it wasn't, was it? Could she be THAT sensitive?

"Good to know," he said dryly.

"You fucker," she said, tickling his ribs. He roared with laughter, leaning his forehead against her neck so he wouldn't be yelling it into her face. He scrambled to get her evil little fingers off him. He hated being tickled and she knew that, but she also knew that she could get away with it when no one else could.

"Okay okay I give up!" He said, but he'd taken both of her hands away and had them pinned behind her back. Back came that naughty little dimple and he kissed it. He caught both of her hands in his left and with his right, he explored one of the few parts of her he'd never touched, but always wanted to... her ass.

He couldn't help squeezing it, and this time he was very, very careful not to do any damage, but she gasped, arched her back, and said "Harder... please?" He squeezed harder, enough to open a stubborn pickle jar lid, and kissed his way down her cheek, along her jaw, and down her neck. "Harder... " she whispered. So he did. Enough to crush a soda can. "Harderrrr ahhhhh..." she said, grinding against him with more force than he would've guessed her five foot two frame could produce. Okay, he thought, and went for it.

She moaned right into his ear and shivered. He saw and felt her goosebumps on every inch of her that he could see. He still had her hands behind her back and he let them go to squeeze her other cheek as well. Once, twice, five times. Still she moaned in his ear, and now they were both sweating enough for it to be slippery.

"Ben," she panted, "Ben."

"Hmm?" He said, sitting up straight and trailing his hands up her naked sides. Fuck, this was turning him on. "Yes?"

She took his face in her palms, and said, "Can we... go to your room? Is that okay?"

He slid his hands back down to her ass and stood up with her. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed his ear. "Guess that's a yes."